


30 Days, 30 Ficlets Challenge

by devot (devotfeige)



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotfeige/pseuds/devot
Summary: Thirty individual ficlets written over thirty days, originally written and posted to LiveJournal in 2010; specific notes/pairings are included in the header of each chapter.





	1. cell phone; mobile phone (~a call from heaven)

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: death and a general lack of coping
> 
> Souji/Yosuke; It's not explicitly mentioned, but this is meant to be set a number of years post-game.

In the end, it's Dojima who makes the call. He's made this call a small handful of times before, but it's never been like this. He's never had to keep his voice steady and neutral while he recites practiced words to his own nephew, never while he was still hurt and angry himself over--a lot of things, if he's being honest with himself. But if he doesn't make this call then who will?  
  
"Souji," he begins, "When is the last time you heard from your parents?"  
  
That he isn't certain disturbs Souji more than he is prepared to admit. "I'm not sure. Two and a half months, maybe three?" He doesn't need to ask  _why_. The question hangs unspoken between them for a matter of seconds, and Dojima is grateful for the opportunity to collect himself one last time. It doesn't particularly help.  
  
"No one told you," are the words that come out, against his better judgment. They're not particularly anything--not hurt, not angry, not disbelieving. If they're anything at all, they're the truth, plain and simple. "Souji, your mother-- my sister..."  
  
Souji almost laughs. Catches himself early, while it's only a twist at the corner of his lips. The first thing he thinks to say is that it's really not a very funny prank, second that it's  _impossible_ , third to a thousand that  _you're lying_ , but when he opens his mouth to say any of these things, none of them are what makes it past his lips. " _When?_ " is what he asks.  
  
"Almost three weeks ago."  
  
In another world entirely, he might have noticed when his back hit the wall behind him or that he was holding the phone too tightly or that his other hand had begun to grope for anything at all that might hold him upright just a little while longer. Here and now, none of those things feel particularly important.  
  
_That's--_  impossible. Impossible.  _Impossible._  
  
Dojima's not surprised when the call cuts out and he's greeted with the dial tone. It's not the first time that's happened, either.  
  
  
[ ... ... ... ]  
  
  
_\--sorry I can't answer the phone right now. If you're making a business-related call, you can page me at the following number..._  
  
"Your brother has poor taste in jokes," he tells the recording. Two minutes later, he calls back to add: "Call me back, okay?"  
  
One minute: "Do you remember how you always used to tell me that if there was ever anything important, you'd call me back right away? And there never was, so I never asked you to? I knew you were busy... it just never seemed right to call you if it was something I could handle myself."  
  
Thirty seconds: "Hey, it's-- it's important this time, okay?"  
  
Immediately after the display on his cell finishes informing him that the call has ended, he calls the same number a fifth time just to hear:  _Hello, you've reached Seta Sōko; I'm sorry I can't answer the phone right now. If you're making a business-related call, you can page me at the following number..._  
  
He sits silently through the recording and waits until the phone disconnects automatically, leaving an empty message.  
  
Then he calls again.  
  
Again.  
  
_Again._  
  
  
[ ... ... ... ]  
  
  
_"Where the hell are you, Hanamura?"_  
  
Of all the people he's come to expect hearing those words from, getting a call from Dojima during work hours for them has never been particularly high on the theoretical list. Yosuke frowns, confused, and looks around. He's still standing in the middle of the produce section at the local Junes, same as he was when his phone had begun to ring. Same Junes, same customers, same Tokyo. "Um... work?"  
  
"Not anymore you're not; you need to get home immediately."  
  
Yosuke can't help but laugh at that, if a little nervously. He's never been particularly good at talking with Souji's uncle, but they're usually on the same page in that regard and make their best attempts at stilted conversation when and where it is required of them. "You know, much as I'd really appreciate an early night, I don't think--"  
  
" _Now_ , Hanamura."  
  
There's an edge to his tone that Yosuke recognizes, from a time long past. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, it's a lot like standing out in the street on a cold November night, listening to a man with nowhere left to turn entrust his only family to a group of teenagers that he thought of as anything but trustworthy. He's halfway out the door before he hears himself ask, "What happened?"  
  
When Dojima is met with the dial tone for the second time in as many hours, he only sighs and scrubs a heavy hand over tired eyes. For better or worse, it's out of his hands--and he's left these sorts of things to far less reliable people in the past.  
  
Yosuke hisses a curse when he only gets a busy signal at Souji's number. He's already got one hand on the handlebars of his motorbike when he thinks to try a different one.  
  
Four rings, and then: "Hanamura-kun, good afternoon. I wasn't expecting to hear from you today."  
  
Of course not; it was too much to hope for to think this number might be busy too. He sits back astride his bike in the parking lot, eyes closed as he breathes deep. "Please, Seta-san.  _Please_  tell me that you've spoken to Souji already."  
  
He can feel the hesitation like a physical blow, draws in another slow breath through his teeth to try and keep himself under control.  
  
"I'm sorry; is there something--"  
  
That illusion of control doesn't just slip--it buckles and collapses under the weight. "Fucking-- seriously!? Son of a  _bitch_ , are you fucking kidding me?" he shouts into the phone, disgusted. He's too angry to find any pleasure in the stunned silence on the other end.  
  
"...Hanamura-kun, try to understand--"  
  
"I'll tell you what I understand: I don't even have words for how fucking low that is. He's your own son. When exactly did you intend on  _telling him?_  In another couple of months? A goddamn year, maybe?" He doesn't wait for a reply to that; hopes it stings as much to hear as it does to say. Hopes it hits just a little too close to home, rings a little too true to someone besides himself. He roughly jams his cell phone into a pocket and kicks his motorbike into gear, focused entirely on priority number one. The rest will have to wait.  
  
  
[ ... ... ... ]  
  
  
For the briefest of moments, he can almost fool himself into believing that maybe it's not as bad as it looks. That false hope doesn't last very long, however. It only takes a matter of seconds to realize that it's much, much worse.  
  
"Hey, come on," he soothes softly, extracting the phone from Souji's fingers, which are cold and shaking and refuse to yield at first. "I'm here, talk to me."  
  
He's the very picture of calm, save for the trembling in his hands and the heavily guarded look in grey eyes. Yosuke might not have noticed either if he hadn't had so many years of experience behind him in reading the other. He's been here once or twice before, at different times for different reasons. The trembling is fine; something he knows how to deal with. The abject shut-down, however, he does not. He's forced to settle for the only thing he can think to do, taking the other into his arms and holding him close, waiting out the silence.  
  
Souji doesn't appear to be in any hurry to disturb it, however. He leans a little heavier into Yosuke's shoulder than he might have otherwise, but says nothing. If not for how desperately eerie and tense the silence feels, it might as well have been any other day.  
  
It doesn't take long for Yosuke to begin to understand, when the following day he catches Souji by the wrist on his way out the door and demands to know where he's going. "Work," Souji tells him, as if he doesn't quite understand the question.  
  
"Are you-- seriously? You're sure?"  
  
Souji smiles in response to that, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Nothing has. "Pretty sure that's where I was going, yeah."  
  
In the end, Yosuke lets him go. He wonders how out of place it would be to call out of work himself before deciding that he doesn't particularly care, and does it anyway.  
  
It's another week before Souji finally breaks. Yosuke returns home to find him tucked against one corner of the couch, feet pulled up onto the cushions, with his cell phone against one ear. He looks up at the disturbance, carefully guarded expression still in place (the same as it has been since that first day, much to the other's distress) and lowers the phone gingerly onto his lap. There's a flicker of something, hidden somewhere deep beneath the surface, that pulls Yosuke to his side, kneeling in front of the couch to wrap his arms around his partner's shoulders.  
  
And when at last the wall begins to crumble under the full force of everything coming down upon him all at once, Yosuke's close enough to hear the words as they filter through the tinny cell phone speaker:  _\--disconnected, or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again._


	2. body language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; Pondering over the fact that Yosuke always wears his headphones during fights.

The first time they head out into the fog with the intention of looking for a fight, Souji doesn't question it when Yosuke pulls his headphones up over his ears. He closes his eyes for a short moment, nodding almost imperceptibly in time to a rhythm that only he can hear, and tosses one of his wrenches lightly into the air, opening his eyes once more to watch it fall. He catches it, smiles to himself, and in that moment something changes.  
  
It's small; too difficult to pinpoint, but when Souji catches his gaze and finds himself met with an almost startling confidence, he knows for sure it's there. He gives a short nod of his own and tilts his head in the direction of a hall. Yosuke follows him down it without hesitation.  
  
There's a door at the end of the hall, and Souji holds his hand out before they come to it. His companion turns on his heel without stopping to ask questions, and watches the fog behind them for Shadows while Souji pushes open the door, casting the room a quick glance and finding it empty. When he starts to move again, Yosuke falls into step behind him like it's the most natural thing in the world.  
  
In a lot of ways, oddly enough, it almost is.  
  
Months later, not much has changed. Whenever they encounter a group of Shadows, numerous things tend to happen all at once. Souji turns full-on tactician and leader, falling into a level of concentration that no one particularly envies, watching as he sorts through and calls upon his various Persona--of which no one's quite sure the number of, there seems to be a new one present for almost every expedition--at a moment's notice. Rise's voice takes on an unusually serious edge as she projects vital information to all of them, though she breaks character from time to time to give them her earnest and heart-felt encouragement. Yukiko's attention seems to be everywhere all at once, her gentle healing touch a comfort in its quickness and reliability. They're all focused, each in their own ways, and each of them keeps one eye on Souji for his instruction. Each of them, above all else, is listening for his guidance.  
  
Yosuke turns the volume to his MP3 player up, shifts his headphones up over his ears, and taps his foot to a rhythm that only he can hear--but two of them can  _feel_. Souji's never seen the other more alert or acutely aware than in these moments; reading every movement as though it's as pronounced to his senses as the music in his ears.  
  
Souji's words are quick and concise, his instructions clear and resolute, but no one acts as quickly on them as the only one of their number who can't hear the words at all. A glance, a motion so indiscernible that it might not have happened at all, is all it takes. Yosuke's eyes reflect clear and infallible understanding of every unspoken word, until he isn't following orders at all so much as he is the other's lead.  
  
When the last enemy falls and he pulls his headphones back to their resting place around his neck with a satisfied laugh, Souji offers him a smile that the other returns with a sheepish grin of his own, and he thinks to himself how amazing--how  _frightening_ \--a bond of trust and loyalty so deep truly is.


	3. invincible; unrivaled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team comes to an understanding that they are neither of these things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; Yosuke + Souji

It is never a pleasant sight or sound to watch as one of their own takes a hit that knocks them off balance or sends them sprawling to the floor. They pick up and carry on regardless, reluctant to linger on the topic of close calls, determined to stand strong in the presence of their leader. With experience, the missteps come fewer and farther between--Souji's word carries them swift and sure; his orders absolute. It's difficult not to grow confident, despite his own humble warnings before and after each foray into the blinding fog.  
  
It's easy to believe that they're capable of anything, so long as he is at the wheel. Souji never had to face a Shadow to gain his power, can utilize countless Persona with seemingly no effort, keeping all of their abilities and strengths at the forefront of his mind and switching between them at a moment's notice, always in control of the tide of battle. He is strong and sure and fast, and more than any of them can ever hope to be.  
  
The first time that things go horribly, irrevocably wrong, it feels a lot like the earth has shattered underneath them.  
  
 _"Senpai, no!"_  Rise's panicked voice projects directly into the core of each of their thoughts, drawing their already undivided attention, and Yosuke's torn his headphones from his ears before he's had time to think why that seems important; he throws himself directly between the Shadow and its target, staggering under its heavy blow before desperately willing Susano-O to his aid. He only has a split second to decide between lashing out or drawing back to try and make use of his own meager healing abilities, but Susano-O reacts on a level of visceral impulse that runs far deeper than any deliberate command--hesitation at this juncture marks the misstep that would kill all of them, and he throws his strength into an attack that causes the Shadow to falter, if only momentarily. A moment is all they need; the force of Kanji's retaliating attack is equal to that of an oncoming train, and Yukiko is already kneeling at their leader's side with Amaterasu at her back, bathing both of them in its healing light.  
  
Yosuke is vaguely aware that he can hear his knuckles crack when he loosens the grip that his fingers have around his kunai, dropping both his arms and the blades to his sides as he turns. The warm light fades away, Amaterasu lingering for an instant longer as though surveying its work until sufficiently satisfied with the results. Yukiko lets out a soft breath she'd been holding, her hand lingering over the torn fabric of Souji's uniform jacket, underneath which his shirt is dyed a harrowing red. She can heal their injuries and mend their broken bodies, but there is nothing she can do for the stains they leave behind. On any of them--on  _all_  of them.  
  
He lets out a short sigh of his own when Yukiko turns her gaze to him, unsettled and wary but not overtly distressed, which means things are fine, even though they're really not. He realizes belatedly that she's not the only one with their attention turned on him, the terms  _partner_  and  _second-in-command_  suddenly gaining meaning that he'd never really considered before as he watches their leader's shallow and stuttered breathing and is struck with the knowledge that they are waiting on  _him_  to step up and find some way to bring their shattered perception of reality back into order.  
  
"We're..." he starts, his voice sounding weak and strained to his own ears. He swallows and tries again; "We're done here for today."  
  
They filter out in pairs, reluctant to go on ahead with things as they are, but there's no way for them to feasibly drag Souji out of Junes in his current state without attracting unwanted attention toward themselves. Yosuke stays behind as the only one of them with the ability to sneak out after-hours, his back against the stack of televisions in the center of the back lot and the other's head cradled in his lap--breathing shallow and eyes closed--hair bloodied and matted when he absently runs his fingers through it.  
  
"You know what...?" He speaks softly, in part to break the heavy silence that's fallen over them since the rest of the team dispersed, "This is going to sound really stupid, but I just realized something. This-- this is dangerous." He's not sure if Souji's still awake, or if he can hear his voice even if he is. He's not sure he  _wants_  him to hear.  
  
"We could  _die_  in here."  
  
After what feels like an oppressively long stretch of time, during which he almost thinks-- _fears, hopes?_ \--that maybe the other hasn't heard him after all, Souji reaches up to somewhat clumsily pat the front of his shirt in some weird imitation of a reassuring gesture. Grey eyes are still dim and unfocused as he offers his best, most sincere smile, nigh imperceptible though it may be.  
  
"I know."


	4. heads or tails, you lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sophie's Choice situation. I think we've all been here at least once before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; end-game boss spoiler

It takes all of her remaining strength just to be able to feel Amaterasu at the far reaches of her fatigued and enervated mind, the Persona's restlessness her own as she races through the situation and her available options for the thousandth time in the space of seconds. Ameno-sagiri's thick and oppressive cloud of fog shields it from them as it builds its own relentless power, preparing for another devastating attack that will no doubt crush them underfoot. It emits a thunderous, ominous, metal sort of creaking as it collects and focuses its energy, and for a breathless instant--time that Yukiko is well aware they do not have to waste in such a fashion--she fights herself once more in search of a solution that might end a different way.  
  
She only has one chance. The faint and weary contact that she has with her Persona will be impossible to establish again, like this. She's too exhausted to draw the strength she needs to push them through another hit like the last; no matter how desperately she tries, Amaterasu won't answer her pleas. She must make a choice: divide her overtaxed abilities among them all, hope against all hope that what little strength she can lend them will pull any of their flagging team back onto their feet long enough to make a difference, or...   
  
She turns, searching for an answer.  
  
Chie's on her knees, struggling to stand; struggling to breathe. She's broken more than a couple ribs, her ankle bends at an angle it shouldn't, and it's watching her claw her way through the pain only to stumble and fall under her own weight that Yukiko knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are going to die.  
  
 _We're already dead_ , are the words Chie doesn't speak when she turns defiant, tear-stained eyes her way.  _Don't waste this._  
  
Yosuke's only barely on his feet. His headphones are still secured over his ears in a pale imitation of the energetic nonchalance that he's approached all of their battles with thus far, but the cord hangs loose--severed or snapped at some point earlier, when things had only just begun to turn. He reaches up to swipe the end of his sleeve over one eye, gritting his teeth and wincing as he does, but the motion only serves to smear the stream of blood obscuring his vision across his cheek. He curses bitterly and tries again before glancing in her direction and blinking through the haze of red and fog, a pointed  _What are you waiting for?_  visible in his unclouded eye. She doesn't hold his attention for long, but she's come to understand that things rarely do in times of peril unless they're near and dear to the heart.  
  
She follows his gaze until she comes to face option number two:  
  
Souji stands ever strong and defiant, though his left hand is clasped tightly over the opposite limp and bloodied arm, katana dragging uselessly along the barren ground beneath them. When he turns, she can see that the far lens in his glasses has been completely shattered. Even he won't last much longer, with or without them. A second wind might only serve to prolong the inevitable end that awaits the rest of them, with the added weight of being forced into enduring that end alone.  
  
He shoots her a sharp, steely look that all but  _pleads--_  
  
 _Yukiko--_  
  
"Yukiko...!"  
  
 _"YUKIKO!"_  
  
She closes her eyes tightly as she reaches desperately for Amaterasu's familiar presence at the far corner of her consciousness, and prays that she'll ever forgive herself.


	5. definitely no logic to human behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The person responsible for everything watches as events unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; major end-game spoilers

_Hope, Emptiness, and Despair--_  so persists the full spectrum of human emotion, so far as she is concerned.   
  
She follows each of her chosen few with watchful eyes, each of them a blank slate with the potential for any of these three and each gifted with a spark of power that could change the course of the world. With each, in turn, she is continually disappointed.  
  
The first--  _Hope? Emptiness? Despair? Time will tell._  --uses his power for personal gain, reveling in his new-found ability like a madman. It takes only the softest push, but before long the demure and awkward young man with calculating eyes is twisting others to his selfish will. She sits back and observes as he lashes out against opposition, crushing it underfoot. But he is clever and retains a strong sense of conceit, smiles and stumbles his way out of scrutiny and steps away unscathed.  
  
 _Is this mankind's wish?_  she wonders, as she sends the second on his way.  
  
He is a weak and foolish man, one who cowers when the first directs his attention upon him. He sees the potential for trouble in his own future, stepping down and away from his tantalizing power-- but not before shrewdly leaving the second in his place. Sweet lies are his tools of choice, and the second greedily devours them like a man starved for sustenance.  
  
 _Emptiness,_  she decides.   
  
He is drawn to lies like a moth to flame, and as time goes on only seems to sink deeper and deeper into the endless fog. The first leads the way with a smile and open arms, so comfortable in the shroud of lies that it is impossible to place whether or not he had ever made a place for himself outside of them or not.  
  
Between the two of them--and all of the rest as they wander through the dark, content to accept the lies they are fed as truth without question--she is very nearly convinced all too early of mankind's decision.  
  
Or she would have been, if it were not for the third.  
  
She had not yet placed the first two, upon their meeting, but when she'd seen the guarded, weary eyes and tired smile already at home on such a young boy, she had immediately shunted him into one of the lesser categories, her own smile taking on a bitter edge as she grasped his hand. This was, in every essence, mortal man's hope for the future: a child with very little to spare.  
  
In him she'd found little of interest, having already witnessed mankind's future entrenched deeper in the fog than its predecessors, cursed to wander ever aimlessly toward false truths.  
  
What a pleasant surprise, then, she thinks to herself; watching as those weary eyes slowly sharpen, until the boy stands fast and sure above the others, trudging through the fog with purpose and conviction as he reaches out for the faint whispers of  _truth._  
  
Human folly, she scoffs. The others have proven over and again mankind's wish. Humans exist in a state of Despair-- long for Emptiness, and shirk away from Hope. Content to swim in the sea of endless fog, mindless of the hardships that await them on the path toward truth, mankind's wish is to be forever blind.  
  
And yet Hope persists.   
  
It is an amusing oversight, at first, but she quickly tires of his struggle. So few cannot oppose the will of so many, no matter how they strive. In all of her infinite generosity she presents him with the opportunity to delay mankind's judgment and allow them all another chance, which he reaches for effortlessly and without question, steadfast in his chosen path.  
  
Never had she dreamed that this might not be enough.  
  
So it is that as he stands before her, she feels slighted-- a mere mortal, whose powers were a  _gift_ , who has fought against the wishes of his fellow man in a thankless, tireless,  _selfish_  effort...  
  
" _I... am Izanami,_ " she informs him, watching coldly as fear and recognition flash through his eyes.  
  
If Hope is so foolish as to strive for a truth beyond reckoning, then; " _You must come prepared to follow through in your futile resistance... I'll be waiting for you._ "


	6. likeness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately post-Nanako's rank 9 s.link, Souji indulges her request to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; Souji + Nanako

"Now," Nanako looked at him expectantly, smile still in place, "It's your turn to talk!"  
  
Souji's own smile faltered in response. "M-me?"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
He shifted uncomfortably, glanced toward the clock. It was getting late, close to Nanako's bed-time, but he'd never used that as an excuse to cut any of their conversations short before. The last time she'd asked anything of the sort he'd changed the subject, but this time... Her own smile faded as she watched him, and he hummed guiltily at his own awkwardness. "I don't really know what to talk about..."  
  
Nanako looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well... hmm." She followed his gaze toward the clock, frowning softly at the time. He worried at first that she might think he was only stalling, until she glanced back at him with a look that was entirely too familiar. Despite everything they'd talked about tonight and so many nights previous, it was never any easier on her when his uncle didn't return home before she'd long been sent to bed.  
  
"...You've never met your aunt, have you?" He observed suddenly, the words tumbling from his mouth before he'd had time to think where he was going with them. He blinked at himself, surprised-- but the quizzical look he was given reminded him that if there was anyone capable of slipping past his guard, it was the little girl in front of him. "My mother is your dad's older sister," he clarified, watching as she drew her brows together and thought about that particular piece of information.  
  
"Oh yeah..." She looked thoughtful for a moment longer, as though trying to imagine her father co-existing with an older sibling the way she'd grown comfortable in Souji's own presence over the last number of months. "I sort of forgot," she admitted shyly, embarrassed. He smiled at her until she returned the gesture, albeit somewhat hesitantly. "I don't think I have, no..."  
  
Souji nodded, knowingly. If he hadn't seen his uncle since-- he stumbled on that thought, wondering exactly how old he'd been the last time he'd seen his uncle. Too young to remember having met him at all before earlier that same year, at any rate. It was unlikely that his uncle and his mother had made time for one another since.  
  
The thought was appropriately disheartening.  
  
"Seta Sōko," he said softly, finding it strange how he'd probably spoken her full name in formal conversation more than he'd ever had the opportunity to call her 'Mom' with the same liberty that Nanako spoke of her own father to him. That thought spurred him on as he continued, "My mother. She's... very much like her little brother."  
  
Nanako giggled softly, leaning forward in interest, "Really?"  
  
"Definitely," He assured her, unable to stop himself from returning her smile with a subdued version of his own, "If you saw her, you'd know right away that they were related. They could probably even pass as the same person, if they tried. Maybe even without trying at all."  
  
"What does she do?" Nanako prodded curiously, and he straightened a little in response. It was difficult to think of a way he could explain that she might be able to understand.  
  
"Well... she's a lawyer, of some description. My dad's the president of a big company, and she manages a lot of legal stuff for him." It was hard to keep himself from chuckling at his younger cousin's frown. "Accounts and share values and... stuff. I've never really tried to keep track of it, myself."  
  
When he met her gaze again, he was surprised to see the serious expression she'd taken on.  
  
"Both your parents work?"  
  
He nodded. "That's why I'm here, remember? They've both gone overseas for work, so I..." The look she gave him stopped him cold.  
  
"For an entire year," she recalled. "Big bro... aren't you lonely?"  
  
Souji caught himself before he could hesitate, doing his best to smile for her. She didn't look overly convinced, but then he supposed it was difficult to fool someone who knew without having to ask in the first place what it was that you were feeling. "I have you," he told her instead.  
  
It put a smile back on her face, if nothing else.  
  
"My mother's a lot like your dad," he repeated his earlier assessment, "She always has been. When I was your age, it was the same... It's still the same, I guess. Both of my parents have jobs that keep them very busy."  
  
"Even though you have both of them, it's the same?" Nanako's smile threatened to disappear once more, and he reached out to gently pat her head. "What do you do, when they're away?"  
  
"Sometimes I'd go with them, when I was really young. Or I'd get sent to stay with some extended family somewhere, or a close friend of one of theirs, when I was closer to your age." Nanako was looking at him strangely again. "I moved around a lot. Then when I was old enough, I mostly took care of myself."  
  
"Big bro..."  
  
"They're just busy," he assured her in as kind and gentle a tone as he could manage, the same tone he'd heard dozens of people use when he'd still been young and couldn't possibly have understood. "Like how your dad is busy. That doesn't mean he loves you any less; he'd be home more often if he could."  
  
She nodded slowly. "Yeah, but... he's never sent me somewhere else to live."  
  
It was almost funny, how much it hurt to hear things spelled out so simply. Evaluated in the clean and clear-cut way that he'd long since barred himself from ever thinking about.  
  
"Your dad doesn't have to travel," he told her.  
  
She frowned up at him, as though that explanation weren't enough. "Still, though..."  
  
"It's fine," he interrupted gently, shaking his head. "Like I said before, I've got you now. So I'm--"  
  
He paused, watching the soft spark of surprise that had lit up her eyes, feeling the same emotion ripple somewhere from within himself. It took an instant to realize that the words had been so easy to stumble upon because they were--for once--the full, unfiltered truth. Once the thought had been acknowledged, though, it arrested his attention entirely, refusing to be held back any longer:  
  
"...I'm not lonely anymore."


	7. full-hearted laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately post crossdressing pageant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; Yosuke + Souji

Yosuke slammed the classroom door shut behind himself, leaving the girls and Kanji (and Teddie, but he was temporarily categorizing the bear as one of the girls entirely out of  _spite_ ) to their own devices while he worked to gather up the pieces of his shattered pride. Souji sat a few feet into the room on top of a desk--still fully dressed in skirt and stockings and long, braided wig--legs crossed at the knees and hands folded in his lap.  
  
"Honestly? You look like you're enjoying that  _way_  too much, partner," the brunet groaned, tugging his hair free from the strawberry hair tie that he'd been burdened with and raking a hand through it messily. He shook his head afterward for good measure before promptly setting about to figuring out where he'd left his normal clothes, Souji watching mildly from his perch.  
  
"I kind of am," he said lightly, tossing one of his braids over a shoulder and straightening his posture a little, "It's not every day you get an excuse to dress up and have a little fun."  
  
Yosuke fought back a derisive and entirely unsympathetic snort in response. "Oh, don't you start," he snapped, scrubbing his face with the inside of his shirt in a mostly futile attempt to rid himself of the makeup Chie had all but drowned him in, "In no way was any part of this anything that even remotely--" He glanced up as he spoke in time to see the other stand, watching as he pulled the wig from his head and set it aside. The shorter grey hair underneath was only slightly matted and unruly, but what drew his attention first and foremost were the small pink clips that had been fastened in Souji's bangs to keep them up and out of the way; two on the left and one on the right. He stood and stared, his voice dying somewhere in his throat at the sight.  
  
When the other looked up at him questioningly, he knew immediately that he was a lost cause: a short breath of air escaped him in some estranged cross between a scoff and a chuckle, and from there the laughter he hadn't realized was lurking just beneath the surface bubbled up and over the edge in only a matter of seconds.  
  
He fell into the nearest desk chair, doubling over and clutching his stomach with both arms, tears in his eyes as the laughter grew in volume and intensity. When he chanced another glance up, Souji's expression--torn between confusion, mild concern, and amusement--sent him straight into another round of helpless giggles, gasping for breath all the while.  
  
"Dude-- you look," he shook his head, reaching up to wipe his eyes with one hand, still laughing breathlessly, "Oh my God, we  _both_  look absolutely ridiculous, don't we? What the hell were we thinking?"  
  
Souji let out a brief, quiet chuckle of his own, reaching up to retrieve Nanako's borrowed hair clips as he did, "I believe it was something along the lines of ' _If we have to do this, we may as well go all the way_ '?"  
  
That earned him another bout of laughter, albeit shorter than the last. "Never again, I swear," Yosuke sighed, leaning back in the desk and staring at the ceiling for a long moment. He offered a lopsided grin when the other leaned over him, which quickly degraded into an amused and mostly failed attempt at a scowl as the strawberry hair tie from his own hair was systematically replaced with tiny pink hair clips, "Hey, quit that-- get off!"  
  
He bat the other teen away with his hands, pushing him at the shoulder until he had the space to bring his foot between them and use that as extra leverage, holding him far from reach. When Souji paused, looking him over appraisingly, he let his foot slip back to the floor as he tried to place the expression on his friend's face.  
  
Souji tended to be soft-spoken even at the worst of times, almost infuriatingly mild in all outlets-- but his soft smile and almost imperceptible laugh were the rarest and quietest of all.  _This_ , by comparison...  
  
He'd opened his mouth as if to say something when a short breath of air escaped his lips instead; he quickly moved to stifle the sound that accompanied it with one hand, but it flowed through him and past his fingers like the Samegawa itself, a quiet burst of giggles quickly and effortlessly giving way to a loud and earnest laugh. His shoulders shook with the effort and he leaned back against a desk to keep himself from losing his balance entirely as he leaned forward, pulling his hand away when it became overbearingly apparent that it was of little use. He was still laughing when Yosuke threw his uniform jacket at him and informed him that they were going to miss the girls' event if he didn't pull himself together, but the gesture was half-hearted at best, considering that his hair was still done up in little pink clips and he was laughing right along.


	8. our own world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamura Yosuke falls in love at the age of thirty-two, on the clock at a Junes food court in downtown Tokyo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yosuke/Nanako; some number of years post-game. Yes, you read the pairing right.

Hanamura Yosuke falls in love at the age of thirty-two, on the clock at a Junes food court in downtown Tokyo.  
  
She's twenty-two, an attractive young woman with a quiet smile, and a perfect stranger when she takes the seat across from him. Her smile turns positively radiant when he responds to her inquiry on the status of said seat that it's hers now regardless of whoever else may or may not have been there previously (which had, in fact, been no one at all-- but that doesn't seem particularly important to add).  
  
When he moves to stand with a light comment about how he should probably get back to work, she orders for two and promptly sits him down again. She smiles and laughs and asks him all sorts of things that no one's ever been interested in before, and he thinks he might have been completely smitten before she'd even left the tip.  
  
She returns the following day, greets him with a smile and a wave, and again insists that he join her for lunch. This quickly becomes a trend; he begins to notice her around Junes in the aisles and the check out counters-- whichever shift he's working, whatever department he's in, he stumbles into her time and time again.  
  
"We've really got to stop meeting like this," he laughs when he turns from stocking shelves just to nearly step right into her. She only smiles at him in return.  
  
"I like meeting like this," she says, and leaves him standing in the wake of her cheerful disposition and a playful flip of her long brown hair, only mildly dumbstruck.  
  
And then, just as suddenly as she first appeared, she's gone.  
  
"I met this girl," he recounts over the phone to his best friend, who indulges him with the same quiet understanding that he has all the girls he's loved and lost over the past number of years, "and you wouldn't believe it if you saw her; she's amazing."  
  
"What's her name?" Souji asks, and all at once his heart plummets with the realization that he doesn't know, he'd never bothered to get her number, and--  _it doesn't matter, because I'll never see her again._  
  
One month, two; his shifts are longer than they've ever felt, leaving him drained and bone-weary. He's slumped over one of the tables in the food court, trying to drown out the piped-in music in his mind without resorting to his MP3 player. He's not on the clock, exactly, but it looks bad in front of his supervisors and he's not exactly hurting for more reasons to be stuck at the bottom rung of the thankless retail ladder forever.  
  
It's with this in mind that he straightens and adopts his best employee's smile when a customer wanders in to find the stalls abandoned, this close to closing hours: "Hey, sorry, what can I do for you?"  
  
And when she turns to catch his eye, his heart nearly skips a beat-- the put-on smile quickly falls from his lips, giving way to something soft and subtle and  _real_. She returns the expression easily, more beautiful than he'd remembered, as she moves to join him. "Are you always this helpful when you're not on duty?"  
  
He glances down at his lack of uniform, laughing as he folds his arms across the table top; "Nah, only for you."  
  
The sound of her laughter eases away the tension from the past few months as effortlessly as the smile that graces her lips-- and if he hadn't fallen already, here would be the point of no return.  
  
She stays with him well after closing, talking and catching up until the sun's been lost behind the city skyline somewhere and the stars are all but at their peak beyond the light pollution that hides them from view. When she finally notes the time with some reluctance, he acts upon his first impulse and offers to walk her home.  
  
"You're serious about this customer service stuff, aren't you?" she replies in a tone that isn't  _no_ , and he laughs easily in return.  
  
"Hey, you know how it goes at Junes: 'Every day is Customer Appreciation Day!' and all of that noise. You do remember the jingle, don't you?"  
  
"Of course," she smiles mischievously as she nods, leaning in close: " _Every day's great at your Junes~_ " she recites in a sing-song voice that in an instant lances a sudden icy realization through his heart, and then she's kissing him.  
  
Holy shit-- his mind reels, spinning madly in search of traction, for anything besides--  _oh crap oh crap oh_  shit;  _Nanako-chan--!_  
  
After what for all the world seems to be a lifetime and a half she finally pulls away, and he knows he's gaping stupidly, eyes wide with fear and realization and  _dammit, Souji's going to fucking_  kill  _me--_  by the way she frowns softly at him, gentle brown eyes filled with a hesitant, crestfallen look. Just when she begins to glance away, a hair's breadth from apologizing, that's when his tongue manages to dislodge itself from somewhere in the back of his throat;  
  
"I... N--  _Nanako-chan..._?"  
  
She snaps her attention back to him in an instant, a brief flash of comprehension in her expression before it's quickly buried under one closer to mild discouragement; "You... you didn't recognize me at all, did you?" She clears her throat before adding softly, "Yosuke-nii."  
  
Oh  _fuck_ \-- "I'm... holy crap, Nanako-chan, I-- I mean, you..." he fumbles, as though every word he's ever known has suddenly vanished, language a strange and foreign concept to his ragged nerves. "I didn't realize you were... I'm so sorry, Nanako-chan, I didn't mean--"  
  
Her expression turns suddenly unreadable, a trait she must have picked up from Souji because he recognizes it immediately, and that's when her words really, truly hit him: "You... you knew," he forces himself to speak, only barely audible. It doesn't come in the form of a question. "...this whole time."  
  
"I'm sorry," she replies stiffly, standing as she speaks, and he can feel the panic rising in his chest as she does. "...I should go."  
  
He's on his feet and grabbing her hand before he's had time to think things through, but above all else he's overwhelmingly aware of the abject terror in his heart at the prospect of letting her walk away.  
  
For a moment--standing in the middle of a city he'd dreamed for years of escaping to, and then only of escaping, under the light of the washed-out stars and streetlights--it's a lot like the rest of the world has fallen off the map. Here and now, her hand in his as his only desperate link to anything of value, anything sure or true or  _real_ , not much else seems important enough to hold on to.  
  
" _Please--_ " is the word he speaks, but when she turns to look, there are about a hundred others written in the gentle but determined reflection of his eyes.  
  
And when he slowly, hesitantly, draws her forward to close the space between them a second time--pulling him deeper into the warmth of a growing flame that he couldn't have escaped from if he'd tried--he thinks it might just be the most perfect feeling in the world.  
  
Hanamura Yosuke falls in love at the age of thirty-two with his best friend's younger sister-- a girl that he remembers thinking of as his own younger cousin in a lot of ways, when she'd been only seven and lived just down the road. At the age of twenty-two she's an attractive young woman with a quiet smile and gentle eyes, and when she seats herself upon his lap to wrap her arms around his neck, gifting him with the sweetest kiss, it's easy to forget that anything else could have ever mattered in the least.


	9. too late; at what cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartbeat is all it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; December (bad end) spoilers.

When the television flickers to life one night in late September, Souji bolts upright from his previous state of half asleep and is hunched over the sickly glow with his hands clasped tightly over the frame of the accursed thing before he's had much time to think about what this means.  
  
The fog never left Inaba.  
  
It crawled steadily upward and outward until it had swallowed the entire town, thick and muggy and oppressive. It never left, but they'd done all they could, and they'd put an end to the real source of danger that had lurked beneath the cover of that terrible veil.  
  
 _So why--?_  
  
Outside, thunder crashes. A heavy storm had rolled into Tokyo during the evening, and as much sense as it made in some far off corner of his mind that had grown accustomed to watching for this pale flickering glow to the backdrop of rain, they'd  _finished_  this.  
  
And on the television appears the silhouette of a young woman. She fades into startling clarity and all at once Souji realizes that he recognizes her, had seen her time and again in and around the shopping district back in Inaba, and gripped with a horrified sort of fascination, he brings a trembling hand toward the television screen.  
  
His fingers come to rest firmly against the glass.  
  
A heartbeat is all it takes-- rain pours, the screen buzzes with static, his cell phone begins to ring from somewhere in the room, and Souji brings his opposite hand to rest against the screen.  
  
Solid.  
  
He watches, eyes wide with alarm and a growing sense of fluttering apprehension that he can't yet acknowledge, as his fingertips clink against the glass. He brings back one hand, thumping it uselessly against the television, and then the other to repeat the motion. Both at once-- he claws desperately at the screen in fear, in realization--  
  
The phone's stopped ringing. He beats a fist against the unyielding television screen, hard enough to bruise his knuckles.  
  
 _At the very least we can be sure that a tragedy like this will never happen again!_  
  
He tries again, with similar results. The phone begins to ring again, and he leans into the TV with all of his weight, pressing a palm against the glass while the woman behind it screams and thrashes about and the picture becomes increasingly distorted, but still the screen remains disdainfully sturdy.  
  
 _I don't want anybody else to suffer like we did, ever again!_  
  
The static from the television grows louder, drowning out the woman's shrieks, the ringing from his cell phone, the rain from outside, the crash of thunder, and his own miserable, anguished cry as he throws a fist into the screen, splitting his knuckles in the process. He lets his forehead come to rest against his fist, fingers red and raw and bleeding, when the Midnight Channel finally fades to black. The buzzing doesn't stop for another couple of minutes, ringing loudly in his ears, but that's only the phone, and he can't bring himself to--  
  
 _But if we let him go free and he claims another victim, is that right!?_  
  
\--hear the words just yet. To listen to a mostly rushed and broken apology, to hear that note of self-loathing that is growing full and strong in his own chest, to realize what this truly means, what it is they've  _done_ , and to have to acknowledge the fact that--  
  
 _What I do know is if we let it happen again, that'll be too late!_  
  
\--they were wrong.


	10. locked in; stuck in the middle of nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yosuke and Souji each contemplate their respective situations in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen; pre-game.

It's not that he particularly hates the quaint rural town (except that he does sometimes, a little bit; holds a grudge over the fact that he was never given a choice), it just isn't  _home_.  
  
It's suffocating. Everyone knows everyone else, and it doesn't take long at all for the novelty to wear thin when it becomes apparent that everyone means everyone, and he's not the transfer student or the city boy for very long. He's known only as  _'the Junes kid'_  by the end of approximately one week. It's almost amusing, at first.  
  
That novelty runs thin pretty quickly, too. The moment that the first shop goes under, being associated with Junes isn't something to be particularly proud of anymore. Not that it ever was, but the attention had at least been pleasant--it had been something to talk about that everyone seemed to be interested in.  
  
They're still interested in talking about Junes, and the Junes kid too, of course. There's nothing else in Inaba to speak of, anyway. The only difference is that now they speak in hushed whispers and turn scornful eyes toward him when he dares approach the subject. Their world's been turned upside down, and it's the store's fault, his family's fault,  _his_  fault, because all of those things are too closely intermingled to possibly be distinguished from one another in such a small town. Yosuke makes a habit of keeping his headphones on his person at all times, from then on. His music has always been a comfort-- never an escape.  
  
But then, a lot of things have changed.  
  
  
  
 _Home_  is a relative term. It always has been, for as long as he can remember. The city's no better, regardless of the fact that it's where he always comes back to. Tokyo is the center of his universe, the beginning and end of every road--or maybe only a pit-stop that manages to find its way between everywhere else.  
  
It's suffocating. The anonymity of a faceless crowd, full of people who will never acknowledge each other's existence and wouldn't know even if they were to ever see one another again, is lonely in a way that nothing else in the world quite compares to. Even the brief stints in other, smaller cities (and in one moderately noteworthy occasion, another country entirely), as he's strung along the life presented to him by the nature of his parents' work, are painfully isolated. He's been forced to grow well beyond his years, which comes accompanied by the knowledge that with each and every greeting comes an equally abrupt farewell.  
  
He can't remember half the people he's met, and it's strange to think that anyone could ever keep track of something like that. Every so often he'll be re-introduced to someone whose smile is a little too friendly, a little too forced, and asked the inevitable;  _Remember?  
  
No_, he wants to say.  _And you probably don't either._  
  
It's a road well-traveled, familiar in all too many ways, but that does little to make it any easier. When they ship him off to stay with his uncle for the year, it doesn't occur to Souji that this might be any different. He's been around the world and back again, he thinks to himself as the miles roll past his window, and everywhere is the same.


End file.
